


Maestro

by peoriapeoria



Series: The Private Casebook of J.H.W. [4]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-09
Updated: 2011-04-09
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:58:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peoriapeoria/pseuds/peoriapeoria
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This follows the conclusion of Honest Deceit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maestro

"Watson?" I sat the box down, aware that it was from a reputable jewelers. My dear friend was reacting quite strongly, to my mind out of proportion. However, I had learned that Watson's measure was not my own. I grabbed for his wrist just as he stood, missing by threads.

"You were twenty-three." Watson went to the door, and for a moment I feared he would leave. With relief, he locked the door and returned to his chair with the unease of someone that would rather stand. I judged he wouldn't speak further without prompting.

"Hardly a minor." I would not err if I were to say those were the last words he wished to hear. "John," I rarely called him so, "tell me what you are thinking." If he had been slower to speak, I would have fetched him a brandy.

"You could not have known what you were doing. What you were abandoning untried. Overcome with nerve impulses."

"I should be insulted, if I did not know your overdeveloped sense of responsibility. You were correct when you said the fairer sex holds no attraction for me. I knew that from a young age. That I should feel attraction to anyone did startle me." I looked at Watson with firm intent. He cuts a fine figure.

"Holmes."

"Would I have needed to have suffered another five years before you could accept I could love you?" I stopped his protest, still unmindful of what I had said. "I cannot say I like your motives if that is the terms on which you'll have me." Flushed, I finally realized what I had said. It has been my experience that the word is most often used as false coin, such that I've not tendered it even in my own mind. "Would you have denied me if you had known my true age?"

"No." He turned away and I stood.

"Come, this isn't the best place to talk." Our sitting room was in fact a great deal more secure than those found in the best homes, as we were not awash in servants and Mrs. Hudson did not permit them to loiter at our door. However, I tempt fate only when necessary. I escorted Watson not to my room but upstairs to his own. "Now, tell me why it matters now, if it would not have changed things then?"

Watson took in the open curtains and sat on his bed. He has an admirable grasp of certain aspects of intrigue. "Why me? No, I am answering your question. I wouldn't have denied you, because I would have had to deny myself and after that kiss in the garden it was unthinkable I shouldn't do anything you were willing. I should however made you pursue me the harder. That you would not have makes all the difference."

"How can you know that?" I wasn't about to let him know he was correct, as I don't believe so much was ever at stake. "Since you insist in painting me with a damsel's colors, I must take their prerogative and claim you in perpetuity. Or will this come to a duel?" Laughter I suppose fit into my gambit, much as did my affront at Watson's mirth. The image of Chevalier Maupin was perhaps rather unavoidable, though panniers would be better suited for fencing than a bustle.

Though I had avoided the unthinkable, we did not resume quite where we had left off. Watson, despite that I had since been the instigator of our times together, seemed to need additional inducement and proof. He set great store in seeing my unclothed body. He did not eschew my bed, but did now balk at certain of my proclivities, only to offer to reciprocate. I could no more allow Watson to fellate me than I would sodomize him.

I halted my fingers on my shirt buttons, my waistcoat already discarded. It was past time to put the Rubicon back on course. I started teasingly at his lips, pressing past that first kiss so long ago in the garden. Science would not be fully developed until it could understand the physiology of a kiss. Watson's mouth is a revelation.

It didn't take much to encourage those warm hands to finish my deshabille. Watson is the better nude with his canonical proportions. I pressed him onto my bed, holding him there with strength and guile. My fingers sought the jar of cold cream in the purposeful clutter on my nightstand. Watson had made the suggestion of intercrural, making better than the general use of latin classics. Warming it slightly in my hand, I spread it over his much hotter thighs. It's not an unpleasant diversion; I prefer a higher seat. Nor could I forget he offered it out of misplaced guilt. Watson's pleasure was evident against my abdomen. I judged him well lost and made my move, pulling back and stretching over him.

I looked down at his eyes wide and open. I cradled his head, rubbing my thumb over the edge of Watson's face. It wasn't difficult to kiss him, a distinct advantage of this new position. I moaned as he brought his hands to my face and hips.

"You will have it your way, won't you?" I was face down against his neck, one strong arm wrapped around my back, his other hand tracing over my ear and throat. "Only a fool continues to fight the inevitable. I'm yours to use." His mustache is very soft. "Just..." I nudged him to finish. "Keep stripping for me." I think I fell asleep still laughing.

Fin


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